Ginevra
by TASHAx
Summary: Both Harry and Voldemort fell and Death Eaters reigned supreme. Draco Malfoy is set to marry Daphne Greengrass and both shall eventually govern the Wizarding World, but when Ginevra Weasley is enslaved she somehow manages to change the fate of all.
1. Every Story Is A Love Story

_Every story, tale or memoir  
Every saga or romance  
Whether true or fabricated  
Whether planned or happenstance_

_Whether sweeping through the ages_  
_Casting centuries aside_  
_Or a hurried brief recital_  
_Just a thirty-minute ride_

_Whether bright or melancholy_  
_Rough and ready, finely spun_  
_Whether with a thousand players_  
_Or a lonely cast of one_

_Every story, new or ancient_  
_Bagatelle or work of art_  
_All are tales of human failing_  
_All are tales of love at heart_

_This is the story_  
_Of a love that flourished_  
_In a time of hate_

Daphne Greengrass knelt on all fours, observing the aftermath from beneath her long blonde hair, hair that was stained with blood and dirt and tears. Sweat dripping from her beautiful face, she looked delicate and broken, deeply tragic. They had won; he had been defeated. She and the renegades, they'd overcome him and thus ended the third war.

A war which had lasted eleven months to the day. A war which finally completed the task the great Harry Potter had begun. A war which, now it had been won, allowed survivors the comfort that The Boy Who Lived had not died in vain at the climax of the second war. A war which was initiated by Daphne losing the two people she'd loved more than life itself.


	2. Fortune Favours The Brave

**Ginevra**

_The more we find, the more we see_  
_The more we come to learn_  
_The more that we explore_  
_The more we shall return_

_Nothing is an accident_  
_We are free to have it all_  
_We are what we want to be_  
_It's in ourselves to rise or fall_

_This is easy to believe_  
_When distant places call to me_  
_It's harder from the palace yard_  
_Fortune favours the free_

OOO

At just seventeen Harry Potter died while murdering Voldemort. As the green jet of light shot from his wand and struck his foe squarely in the eyes, another beam of emerald erupted from the tip of Bellatrix Lestrange's wand and Harry too passed away. After their leaders, their saviours, had been killed, the entirety of Wizarding Britain went into chaos. It was utter devastation everywhere, and after several months the Death Eaters had won. They had abolished the notion of democracy and had adopted a system that was almost like royalty. Successors of the Minister of Magic wouldn't be voted into power, they'd be appointed by the previous Minister. The new rulers of the Wizarding world had coined themselves _The Purebloods._

The remaining members of the Order went into hiding. Some survivors escaped and fled the country, while others were rounded up and sent into servitude of the upper classes. Some were deemed traitors and were punished by death.

Currently in power as Minister of Magic was Sebastian Greengrass; he had been Voldemort's right hand man towards the end of the Second War and it was widely acknowledged by all that he was the best man to lead them. Lucius Malfoy, while resentful that he had not been seen fit to run the Wizarding community, had insured he'd become Sebastian's advisor and confidant. He had begun slowly infiltrating the new Ministry and gaining respect amongst his peers once more.

Greengrass was a fair leader; he did not condone the killing of innocents, but he did demand loyalty, those who did not accept him as their Minister they became fugitives to the law. Mutiny was punishable by execution.

His wife had died long ago, but he had his two daughters, Daphne and Astoria. The former, and eldest, was due to marry Draco Malfoy in a year's time, at which point both would become joint leaders and relieve Sebastian of his duties. However, recently the Minister had fallen ill; he was weak, tired, and slowly dying. Daphne could not help but think that the responsibility of running the country would fall to her sooner than expected. A responsibility she never wished to endure. A responsibility she did not want to accept.

She was only twenty-three, beautiful, rich and spoilt. She loved life; she was pampered and pandered to, and she had never known hardship or strain as both she and her sister had been shipped out to Italy for the duration of the wars. They were sent back once all had been resolved. In fact, at that exact moment, she was in the midst of a grand party - a party held by the Malfoys in celebration of their son's return.

Draco was to arrive back at any time and Daphne had done all within her power to be beautiful for him. She had donned a _Zabini _original: an elegant set of scarlet robes which were backless and fell all the way to the floor, leaving a small trail behind her. Her blonde hair was tied up in a knot at the nape of her neck and her make-up was flawlessly applied. Appearance was everything to Daphne; she was renowned for her exquisite clothing and her pleasing-to-the-eye presence. Never was she not beaming to the world, even if the pearly whites she flashed were just covering up a knitted brow or a heavy heart.

She had been most irritated when her father had informed her of the marriage arrangements he had made for her. Why should he dictate with whom she spent her life? However, upon discovering it was Draco Malfoy that was her betrothed, the future did not seem quite as bleak. He was attractive, strong and rich. His arrogance rivalled her own and he held the same things with the utmost importance: appearance, social politics and the rich comforts in life. She had fallen in love with the beautiful blond man with whom she was to live, rule and die beside.

Daphne hated it when he left for great periods of time to explore the world or to round up the renegades who plotted against her father and the new society. She knew he cherished his escapes away from London, but that would all cease once they were married and he could no longer continue his philandering ways; he would remain faithful to her and to his post as a leader. Oh, yes, Daphne was aware of the selfish nature of her thoughts; she wanted to crush the passions of the man she loved. But if s could convince him to remain where she could see him and keep him bound to her by a unity of marriage, then he would never stray to the bed of another woman. She knew he could grow to love her; she would make sure of it.

"My son!"

Narcissa Malfoy threw out her arms as the doors to the grand ballroom swung open to welcome her only child. He looked strong and brave and striking. Draco was simply clothed, his icy blond hair was long and shaggy, and his face was set with victory and arrogance. All these people were here to welcome his return to London. At the top table sat his mother and father alongside Sebastian Greengrass, Greengrass' two daughters, his aunt Bellatrix and several other politicians that were in his father's pockets.

Draco stared for a moment at Daphne Greengrass. His wife-to-be was looking beautiful and ravishing and, what's more, she seemed to be thoroughly pleased by his return. She would make a perfect wife; his father had been right to push them together and to convince Greengrass that a Malfoy would be the ideal companion for his daughter.

Draco accepted the embrace his mother had rushed to bestow and walked her back towards the top table. He brushed pasted his fiancée and her sister whereupon he greeted them accordingly. His brief acknowledgement did not allow for small talk and he was seemingly ignorant of the slightly reproachful look Daphne shot at him when is became obvious he was not going to greet her with a kiss or at the least a comforting touch. He gripped the shoulder of Sebastian in a fond sort of way - he'd always liked the old man; Sebastian was powerful, impressive and daunting, yet thoroughly likable and fair as a leader. Sebastian was the kind of man Draco wished his father had been influenced by.

The other guests had fallen almost silent; there was a hushed excitement in the air, with whispers being the only sound. All were eagerly waiting to hear of Draco Malfoy's latest excursion. All were desperate to know the gossip. Had he caught more rebels? Discovered a plot to ruin their perfect world? Thwarted an assassination attempt upon Sebastian Greengrass?

Draco finally sat in the vacant seat beside his father.

"It's good to see you again, son" Lucius greeted. "Tell me, was the expedition fruitful?"

Draco observed his father briefly over his goblet of wine, which had just been pushed into his palm by a serving elf. He hated his father's overly pleasant façade; he knew the man cared for him, but this was not how Lucius Malfoy showed affection, and it seemed odd for the older man to be so sugar-coated around others. Draco often wondered if even Narcissa had seen the true colours of Lucius.

"It was...profitable," decided Draco. "We discovered the reason we'd only ever caught wizard rebels - they'd sent all the women off together, led by Ginevra Weasley."

There was a great outbreak of murmurs; his audience's intrigue had been peaked. Ginevra Weasley was one of the people that had been closest to Harry Potter. She was also one of the youngest witches involved in the war and one of the fiercest warriors.

"Yes, we stumbled upon their camp," Draco continued. "She fought hard, I have to commend her - she saved countless women from our grasp, but she was unable to protect herself and three others. We took them prisoner and they are currently being held in the dungeons. I shall be seeing which of them carry any worthwhile merits before sending the rest off to be questioned and sentenced."

In truth, he'd barely had anything to do with the women since their capture; he and his comrades had fought the band of rebels and finally taken four captive. Many of the women had escaped; however, Draco hoped they'd be easily found now that he'd taken their leaders. He'd only seen the youngest Weasley from afar as he'd been duelling with Granger. The mudblood had always been his number one most hated female; he'd had no quarrel with the redhead apart from the fact she'd picked her sides wrongly.

"Odd that she was picked to lead them at such a young age." Sebastian Greengrass's voice was raspy. The man was looking ever so tired,

Lucius sneered. "Do not underestimate her simply because of her age. I fought with her during the Second War and she's stronger and fiercer than you'd presume."

"Aye. I was merely making a point, Malfoy, merely making a point."

Draco nodded, agreeing. "Yes, Flint said she put up a better fight than he'd have thought…all the women were looking to her. Even Granger seemed to follow her orders."

Sebastian nodded. "Maybe it's worth holding on to this one then, Draco. She may have bargaining power, clearly an important figure to the other side."

Draco watched as the Minister turned to engage his youngest daughter in conversation. He looked to be wearing a little thin recently. Perhaps he'd been under greater strain than usual.

Lucius broke Draco from his reverie. "Draco, I shall accompany you to inspect the new prisoners once the festivities have finished."

Draco nodded at his father, knowing the look Lucius was shooting him; there were private matters to be discussed which were not fit for the ears of the respectable people currently seated around them. Draco felt a little bitter. Why must his Father become involved in shady dealings once again? Surely the world was as it should be: the Purebloods were in power, the Malfoys were involved with the highest ranking people, and their riches and wealth had been restored.

The Malfoy reputation was slowly redeeming itself through Draco's work for the Minister, and his parents knew all the right arses to kiss. Draco was a golden boy in the eyes of Sebastian Greengrass; he believed in pureblood supremacy, was able to deal with his issues like a man, fought hard and long to succeed, and was enamoured by the thrill of the chase - the seeking out of enemies. What's more, Draco was due to enter into the family and he'd never been anything other than a gentleman to the minister's daughter.

Almost as if the Fates had heard his musings upon Daphne, the orchestra began to play a tango and his betrothed looked at him pointedly. Combined with his mother nudging him, everything was indicating that he should be asking the blonde beauty to dance. It was clear everyone in the room was also waiting for the youngest Malfoy and his future bride to begin the dancing. Once his goblet of red wine had been drained, Daco stood and strode towards Daphne, his hand extended and waiting for her much smaller one to fill it.

"Miss Greengrass, would you care to dance?" He smiled seductively and she tittered like a schoolgirl.

"Of course, Draco."

He led her to the vast expanse of marble floor where he placed a hand against the exposed flesh of her back and took one of her hands in his. She placed her spare hand upon his shoulder. Draco drew her so exceedingly close that you could have barely dropped a Knut between their bodies. They began their elaborate, well-practised dance. Each had been tutored in the art of dancing for as long as they could remember and it really was a magnificent sight: two beautiful people robotically in sync with one another. This was the reason they were perfect to be joined in matrimony; they were so alike, so groomed to be the crème de-la crème of their society.

Their children would be very blonde and very pale, onlookers mused, and of course, very beautiful. Draco really was a beautiful man, but not in a conventional sense. His features were all so strong that they seemed to fight for which would be noticed first. Daphne thought he was more striking, charismatic and sexy than simply being "good looking".

Daphne, Draco thought, was divine looking. No one could deny he was to marry one of the prettiest women society possessed. Her body was toned and constructed to perfection: long, lithe limbs and graceful curves. Her face held a pretty charm and she had lustrous hair that was begging to be tugged at. He had no qualms about finding the woman in his arms attractive, but he was aware that emotionally and intellectually they seemed to lack compatibility. She was wonderful, but something was missing.

"How have you been, Daph?" he murmured between dance steps.

"Good, thank you. I've missed you - _that is to say_-" Daphne's cheeks coloured slightly and she looked down at their twirling feet.

Draco laughed, deep and rumbling in his chest. She didn't like to give much away, didn't like being as exposed as she'd just made herself. He, however, knew that she appreciated his presence a great deal more than he ever had done hers. He also had a sneaking suspicion she fancied herself in love, which, of course, was slightly ridiculous. The two barely knew one another. He'd remembered her from Hogwarts; she'd always been known for her fashion and for her looks - her Hogsmeade outfits were the talk of the Common Room amongst the girls. Pansy, he recalled, had always been particularly jealous of Daphne's daring and yet undeniably impeccable clothing choices. It still made Draco a little sad reminiscing over Pansy. She'd been a good friend all his life but had been struck down by an Auror in the Second War. It was safe to suppose that said Auror had died swiftly afterwards at the tip of Draco Malfoy's wand.

"Father's fallen ill recently," Daphne commented, her voice soft and delicate. "He only came tonight because it was for you."

Draco nodded as he spun Daphne around before returning her back to the close hold he'd had her in previously. He continued the conversation as though they hadn't paused for an extravagant dance step. "I thought he seemed a little off…give him my condolences."

"Yes, well, he's been ailing with whatever it is for about four weeks. Healers don't know what it is yet. I-I'm sure it's nothing. I hope it's nothing." She coughed to hide the fact she felt awkward once more. "Anyway, you've yet to say anything on my new robes. Zabini made them for me - did you know he'd taken over his mother's business?"

Draco felt himself sigh. Just as he'd dared to think he may have enjoyed a conversation with Daphne that contained deeper topics than usual, they'd returned to paddling in more shallow conversational waters.

OOO

As the Wizarding elite danced and drank within the confines of Malfoy House (mansion would be a more appropriate description. Their manor was still kept in Wiltshire; however, Lucius had felt he needed to be nearer the flurry of activity that was the country's capital at that moment in time), many floors beneath this splendour, Ginevra Weasley knelt at the feet of two large guards. Her long crimson hair fell in disarray about her shoulders and her robes were torn and dilapidated. The once smooth skin on Ginny's face, arms and legs were littered with gashes - _war wounds_. Her wrists and ankles were shackled and the men were taunting her.

"Fascist bastards! Get off me!" Ginny's screech seemed to reverberate off the dungeon walls.

"Look, _Red_, there's two ways we could do this," Ed murmured, leering at her.

"Or we could not do it at all, eh?" screamed Ginny. "Get these fucking manacles off me_ now!_"

The other guard, Reg, glared down in amusement at the redhead. "You know your brother…which one was it, Ed?"

"Ooh, err, Percy it was. Or 'Perce' as we liked to call 'im."

They both laughed mercilessly.

"Aye, _Perce_didn't cause half the trouble you have, little'un." Reg smirked at Ginny.

Losing her temper once more, Ginny began to shout. "_Wanker!_What did you do with my brother? What? Tell me!"

Ed just laughed. "My, my, a regular spitfire. Think she's a hellcat in the sack too, Reg?"

"Fuck you," hissed the redhead.

She'd been struggling against her restraints for what seemed an age. She was so stupid; she should have told Hermione, Luna and Hannah to get out of there with everyone else. She should have just let them take her as now four of the resistance would die. Three of her best friends would die. She could have stopped it at one,_ but no_, they'd convinced her to let them stay, to let them help_. Idiots._ She was snapped out of her inner rant to find the so-called "Ed" blundering towards her and attempting to rip off the remains of her robe.

Ginny began to scream and scream and scream. He succeeded in ripping a scrap off her shoulder, leaving the skin exposed. He bent over her and sniffed at the revealed skin.

"_Ugh._She fucking reeks, mate."

_Fool._ She'd been on the run for as long as she could recall, and had been held captive for the past twenty-four hours in decaying dungeons.

"Piss off, you cunts!" Her voice appeared amplified somehow, as though her inner magic had taken over in her desperation for someone, anyone, to hear.

OOO

_"Piss off, you cunts!"_

The words reverberated throughout Malfoy House. Every person heard her voice as loud and clear as if Ginny Weasley had been there herself, whispering it into each of their ears. Draco took this as his signal to go and sort out the prisoners himself. They needed to be kept under control, not allowed to spout off Sonorous charms whenever they felt the urge.

Draco rubbed Daphne's arm tenderly, "I have to go, Daph."

"Wait!" called the blonde as he began to walk away from her. "I want to…to come with you. I want to see, to see them."

She didn't know why she'd requested such an odd thing. And from the look on Draco's face he couldn't quite grasp her reasoning either, but he grabbed the crook of her elbow all the same and practically dragged her from the function. Before he left the room, however, he shouted that everyone should continue their party and that he would sort it all out.

"You need a job doing right then you should do it yourself!" he quipped to the guests, before shutting the large doors.

Once outside in the corridor, Draco began power-walking down to the dungeons. Daphne struggled to match his speed but managed to not fall behind, despite her spindly high heels.

"I can't imagine why you'd want to witness the snapping of these women's wands, Daphne," Draco remarked. "It's not a sight – well, it's not a sight I can imagine _you _wanting to see."

He didn't speak again after that.

Daphne, too, was baffled by her decision to watch these women at what would probably be the lowest point of their lives. Yet she felt she had to see; had to see what it was truly like to suffer and to see what Draco dealt with everyday. She loved her betrothed and wanted a deeper understanding of his world.

OOO

"Oh, go get shagged, fatty!" Ginny spat at the guard.

"Reg, grab 'er arms. For fuck sake, just do it, yeah? It's the only way to put the bastard disabling charm on her magic."

"You do it then! I already got stung once," groused Reg, nursing an angry red welt on his forearm.

"You fucking bitch, when this is on -" Ed indicated a golden bangle in his hands "- and your magic is gone, that's when the real fun begins." His face looked dark and menacing and full of sinister promises.

"That the only way you can get your leg over, eh, _Ed_?" Ginny sassed at him.

She knew it wasn't the smartest way to react. She'd watched her three friends go through the exact same experience before her; the stripping of their powers, the snapping of their wands, and she'd watched each of them just take it. Watched as three of the strongest women she knew turned into kicked dogs, too afraid to even look the two men in their eyes.

"You little whore!" Ed spat.

Without thinking he backhanded her across the cheekbone and she fell; however, as she hit the floor, he sprang back, grasping his finger which looked as though it had suffered three degree burns. He should have known better, and Draco said as much as he strode into the small enclosure, observing the scene before him. Daphne had stopped at the door of the cell, watching the tableau through cast iron bars.

"Rookie mistake there, Simmons," Draco barked at Ed.

The guards knew, and had been trained, that sometimes when a powerful witch or wizard was backed into a corner they became a positive powder keg of magical energy, sending out wandless and accidental curses left right and centre.

"Malfoy, nice of you to join us," the redhead greeted sarcastically as she lay face down on the floor, unable to correct herself due to her restraints.

"Now, now Weasley," responded Dracoe.

He bent to her eye level and it happened in an instant - it felt as though a spiralling heat had zapped its way through his blood. He was inexplicably drawn to the filthy, vivacious red-haired female. She was beautiful, just utterly beautiful. No make-up, no false smiles, nothing. She had nothing but pure natural magnificence. Her spirit was like fire and he felt completely connected to her. She intrigued him. So young, so strong, so brave; she was like him.

"Should we just off this one, Malfoy?"

Draco looked as though he were almost considering their suggestion as he gazed into her brown eyes - eyes that showed not fear or remorse, but anger and a defiant will. "No…Sebastian thinks she may be useful. Bind her magic."

The two men made their way once more towards her and she began to shriek. "Unhand me! Get off! You _fucking_plebeians!"

This time, however, the men seemed not to forget their training and did not attempt to goad the redhead further. Once the golden band was placed around her wrist, Ginevra felt her power drain, and her magic rush out of her veins; it was as though part of her heart had left forever.

Her voice was a little weaker as she bit out, "You Neanderthals...you bastards."

Ginny had heard of the way in which the law enforcement stripped traitors of their powers, but she hadn't expected it to feel like this. It was as though someone had pulled the plug and all her energy was gurgling down a drain. She could no longer feel the ancient powers around or within her.

"Now, now, Weasley, let's not get too colourful with our language, hmm?" a new voice taunted. "We've heard enough profanities escaping that filthy little mouth of yours today."

Lucius Malfoy had swept into the room just as Ed and Reg pulled the redhead into a standing position. He stopped in powerful stride when he was standing just six inches from the fiery witch. He bent a little so that his tall frame could adjust in order for him to meet her gaze directly, and he reached out to place a finger upon Ginny's lips. He 'shh-ed' her. Ginny's only response was to spit directly in his face.

Daphne watched as Lucius wiped the saliva from his chin and in one fluid movement whacked the redhead with the metal serpent's head of his cane. Ginny fell unconscious immediately, once more crashing to the floor. Blood was leaking from the deep gash on her temple.

"Kill her." Lucius' words were cold and his tone clinical.

"But, father, Seb-"

He glared with white hot anger at Draco. "I said, _kill her_."

"She may have some important knowledge -" Draco's eyes darted about wildly. He couldn't have his father murder this woman.

"Boy, you saw what she's like. She would not speak out against her people no matter how much pain you subjected her to."

"Truth potion, then," Draco countered.

"She'd have bit her tongue off before you had chance to uncork the vial."

"I really don't think -"

"You, Draco Malfoy are not required to_ think!_" barked Lucius. "_I said kill her!_"

"NO!"

This time it had been Daphne who had spoken.

Lucius froze. A look of sheer disbelief etched into his features. "Miss Greengrass?"

"I - I don't want you to kill her."

"As you wish," Lucius bowed his head slightly as he exited the dungeon – pausing only to hiss that he and Draco needed to talk later.

There was a strange, pregnant silence in the air.

Draco looked down at the unconscious redhead. Her cut appeared to have stopped bleeding now.

"Ed, Reg, come on." And with that he too left the dank cell, the two guards sealing the door behind them. "Daphne - you coming?" Draco's voice was hard like granite.

"No…I'm staying here…just for a while."

The men shrugged and exited up the stairs.

Daphne felt her knees buckle and she sank to the floor. She didn't know why she'd saved this _Ginevra. _The redhead was a traitor, and she'd have happily slit Daphne's throat if it meant saving one of her people. But there had been such fire in her eyes, and such bravery. Daphne couldn't have watched one of the most alive people she'd seen in years be slain before her. Although the redhead was clapped in irons she was freer than anyone else Daphne had ever met.

OOO

**Ramble:**

This a reworked version of chapter one. Not loads has been changed from the original text but as I began writing this fic about three and half/four years ago it did need looking at so that chapters one and two wouldn't be dramatically different in writing style compared to the rest of it that I'm writing now.

It was beta'd by the beautiful Kim. (Boogum)

It is based upon the musical _Aida _and each chapter is inspired by a song from it. The lyrics belong to Elton John and Tim Rice. If you don't want to know how this ends, don't read the synopsis of the musical...if you don't care...go ahead!

Reviews are always welcome ;)

Tash.


	3. Another Pyramid

**Ginevra**

_While you've been away cavorting_  
_Matters here have moved apace_  
_Now I need you home supporting_  
_All the plans I've put in place_

_First of all this means your wedding_  
_You'll recall your future bride_  
_For the way that Pharaoh's heading_  
_Time's no longer on our side_

_If our country is to flourish  
Then my son must take the lead  
Be our inspiration, nourish  
All our hopes our dreams our creed_

_Soon our monarch will have filled a_  
_Tomb just like his fathers did._

OOO

It was the wee hours of the morning by the time everything had quietened down in Malfoy House. The house-elves were finally resting and guests had returned home. It had been decided that the Minister and his daughters were to stay with the Malfoys and go back to their home the next day. The night had been through its darkest hours and was now relenting to the persistent dawn that was lightening the sky more and more every minute. The morning had an eerie silence, as though it knew three condemned witches lay in the bowels of the Malfoys' dungeons; birds did not yet chirp, and there was no hustle and bustle of Londoners rushing to work. Draco was savouring the few moments of perfect silence; he loved the quiet. He never seemed to be able to find space to breathe or think while at home; his peace came when he travelled the world.

Draco sat with his back ram-rod straight, behind his father's desk. He was awaiting Lucius' return. He could feel his spine tense, begging to sag beneath the intense pressure of the formality of his home. He missed his travels already. Looking about the study, he knew he wasn't ready to sit behind an office desk all day like his father. He wasn't ready to feel suffocated by four walls; he wasn't ready to deal with trivial matters, allowing others to carry out his orders and have adventure while the most mystery he had in his life was what the house-elves were cooking for dinner. He did not envy his father's way of life or, in fact, envy Sebastian's either. For a long time Draco had been content and comfortable. Nothing particularly ailed him anymore, but then she had arrived. Ginevra Weasley. A strong and fierce witch. A witch so unlike the pureblood wives; a witch so different to Daphne. Ginevra was an incessant reminder of Potter and the Order. Self-righteous goodness practically oozed from her very soul. Why had he not just killed her? Why had he not sent her execution slip to be signed by the Minister along with her comrade's?

Truthfully, he didn't know.

"Draco."

Without turning to face the direction of the voice, Draco knew it was his father. Lucius' height left him standing tall and imposing; his long, sleek, blond hair was tied back with a sapphire ribbon, and he was decked in the finest robes even though no one was here to appreciate them. He looked impassive and unimpressed, as usual.

"Father," greeted the younger Malfoy, feeling slightly nervous as he always did with his back exposed to another, let alone a ruthless wizard who did not prevaricate over shooting the odd Cruciatus  
curse at his son - _just to show him who to respect_, of course.

All black silk, long limbs and white-blond hair, Lucius swiftly sat in his favoured position; sitting behind the mahogany desk, opposite Draco, in a tall, dark green chair. He observed his son for a few moments. Everyone said Draco was the spitting image of Lucius; they were wrong. While the son had adopted his colouring from his father - pale skin, blue-grey eyes and platinum blond locks - his features, the curvature of his face, and the shape of his eyes had come from Narcissa's Black family genes. Draco was more effortlessly handsome than his father; he was stronger of stature and taller than most Malfoy men. His hair was shaggy and would become wavy were it not tended to, whereas Lucius' was pin-straight regardless of what was done to it. But the aesthetic was irrelevant - Lucius was certain that on the inside, Draco was his father's son.

"Sebastian's ill -" began Lucius.

"Yes, Daphne mention -"

"_Do not interrupt, boy_," hissed his father.

An awkward silence followed his words. Draco refused to look down but was not willing to defiantly meet his father's eye either. Lucius glanced out of the window and seeing there would not be much time before the insanity of daytime ensued, he continued.

"As I said, Sebastian is ill. He's _dying_, Draco. Within about ten days there will be no leader on our thrown. I know you were due to leave again in a couple of days, but you are now required to stay here."

His father's words stung like the thrash of a whip on his skin. "_What?_"

Lucius smiled, slowly and cruelly. "Draco, while you have been off gallivanting for weeks, I have been here putting plans into place that will benefit our family. You are going to be a leader, son. Malfoys will once again command respect and we shall have the supremacy we deserved after the Dark Lord's death."

"For months Voldemort had not planned on making you his second in command!" Draco whispered harshly.

He was not afraid to speak the man's name; he'd even once or twice called the man Tom, but the punishments had been so severe he'd not dared do that for years. It was amazing, he thought, how even at twenty-three - six years after becoming a man - his father could still hold such a power over him. Yet he knew Abraxas Malfoy had held Lucius under an iron fist until the day he died of Dragon Pox.

His father glared, flint eyes flashing with malice. "No, but I deserved it. For _years _I was his most loyal servant; I performed tasks he trusted no one else with. I deserved that title of Minister."

He felt himself begin to fume before his son's eyes. Lucius had always maintained, even when out of the public view, that he'd thought Greengrass was a great leader, a strong Minister and someone he respected; now the blond looked manic and bitter and resentful.

"You do not understand, Draco. I had such power…_such power_, respect, and protection."

Lucius had been seduced by Voldemort's power at the tender age of sixteen. He finished his last year at Hogwarts sporting the very first Dark Mark. It had burnt all the time – oh, dear sweet Merlin how it had scalded and blistered continuously. His master always wanted Lucius, his most trusted confidant, at his side. Seven years later the Dark Lord had gained enough followers, enough notoriety, to begin purifying the world against those of less than legitimate bloodlines. During this time, Lucius and the Malfoys had enjoyed a privileged existence, never fearing returning home to see the Dark Mark hovering above their house, and knowing their family would always be provided for.

"I was prized above all others, Draco, and because of _children_ I was sent to Azkaban and the Dark Lord never trusted me again. And you, my _son_, you had the opportunity to rekindle that when he gave you your first mission, but you failed. You owe us this! Yes, me and your mother, Draco. You owe it to us to stay behind, to stay in London and fulfil any duties asked of you. Do you not want to live the life we once loved and held so dear?"

Draco swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. Lucius stood and poured himself a Firewhisky from the decanter by the window. He swallowed the alcohol in one gulp and then breathed in loudly, frustrated. He turned to his son and threw the glass with great malice on the ground at his heir's feet. "All to be replaced, Draco. _Replaced!_"

"Father…"

"Out. _Get out!_"

OOO

Lucius poured more of the amber liquid into his glass, and sat once more at his beloved desk.

_1980_

At the age of twenty-four Lucius Malfoy learned he would become a father; his young, beautiful wife, Narcissa, had her pregnancy confirmed by Healers that afternoon and Lucius couldn't have felt more proud. He was practically bursting with jubilance, even as he felt the Dark Mark upon his arm burn - a telltale sign trouble was stirring. The Dark Lord meant to begin his first attack of the month, starting with the wedding of Lily Evans and James Potter: the Ministry's Golden Couple, two of the most promising Aurors of their class, Head Boy and Girl just that previous year at Hogwarts, rich, beautiful and noble through and through. Pure Gryffindor to the core. Lucius had always hated the Potter's, nearly as much as he hated the Weasleys. Arrogant and always so sanctimonious; it made him sick.

Everyone who was everyone was invited to the Potter's wedding reception. They hadn't wanted a grand affair, but it was insisted upon by friends. People needed cheering - something, anything, to lift their spirits. The Dark Lord had been unrelenting in his attacks recently, becoming more vicious, obvious and sadistic. Even Muggles began to notice. Good, thought Lucius. Why should they be forced to hide? They, the wizards, were not the inferior race, after all.

"Lucius, the loyal," Voldemort hissed.

The man he'd once been - Tom Riddle - had been handsome with pale skin and thick dark hair, but the man whom Lucius now knelt before looked waxy and corpse-like. However, although Voldemort lacked his ocular attractiveness, his charisma was still very much intact; his skills of persuasion and his ability to chill a crowd to the very core with his words were electrifying. Lucius could not help but be enamoured by him.

"Look at me, Malfoy. A child? Interesting. Pass on my congratulations to …Narcissa." Voldemort smiled, but not a smile of pleasantries and good will. Lucius didn't think his master had the ability to smile an altruistic smile any longer.

"Touching," sniped Bellatrix Lestrange, Lucius' sister-in-law. "Tell me, Lucius, when did Cissy think about revealing to me the news of our newest addition to the Black family tree?"

"Malfoy. He will be a Malfoy, Bella."

She cackled slightly and Voldemort silently sent a hex flying towards her. The pink light hit her directly in the abdomen, winding her, it seemed. She began to cough and choke.

"Silly, Bella, do you think we have time to trifle with your pathetic jealousy because you are no longer the pinnacle in your youngest sister's life?"

Bellatrix shut up. Lucius smirked and cheered inwardly; regardless of the Dark Lord's words, he'd silenced her to protect Lucius. He may have not been humane, but he did know loyalty, and he rewarded those who had always been there. Lucius meant more to the Dark Lord than he knew; more than even Bellatrix, a woman consumed with her adoration of dark magic and blood purity. And, oh, how Lucius loved to be adored.

Lucius pulled down his mask as the rest of the Inner Circle began to take their place. They too were decked in black robes and long masks, each of their arms burning as though set aflame. They stood in a circle, in the same places every time. The Dark Lord stood in the centre, watched with reverence by all. A place in the circle, however, was broken. Severus Snape was not going to be there at this attack; he could not bear to watch. And it was not that Lily Evans would be killed this day, though that certainly factored into it, it was that, by the time they arrived, she would no longer be Evans, but Potter. And how, how could he stand to see the woman he loved in a dress of ivory after she had taken his enemies name?

"Calm yourselves." The high voice cracked the air. "I want your focus; I want your dedication to this cause. Many Mudbloods and Muggle loving fools will be present this evening, and I want the world eradicated of their sort. I want to be pure; I want our world to be pure. We take away their leaders, their heroes, and the rest will lose their faith. Lily and James Potter…the shortest marriage ever known!" Voldemort cackled loudly. "Go!"

The resounding crack of twenty Apparating witches and wizards echoed throughout the wedding hall, proclaiming the arrival of a score of Death Eaters, along with their leader. However, the screams of hundreds of panicked guests never came; in fact, the only sound was that of more Apparating. Fifty Aurors stood around the edge of the vast hall, barricading the exits, their wands pointed, their stances poised - ready for the attack.

"We brought the date of our wedding forward, Tom, did you not receive the memo?" jeered a cocky James Potter.

The rest of the Aurors, although a majority thought it unwise to provoke such a large group of reckless and vindictive wizards, shared the laugh at the Death Eater's expense.

"You dare, Potter! You dare to make fools of us?" spat Lucius, standing before his master.

Lucius was soon joined by Bellatrix, Barty Crouch and Rudolphus. But, of course, all identities were hidden by the insidious masks covering their faces.

"Idiots," hissed the Dark Lord so only his followers could hear him. "_Bombarda!_" He pointed his wand directly at the ceiling and suddenly everyone watched for a moment as though frozen in time, staring as the roof began to crack and cave in. "Fools!"

Voldemort clung to Lucius and Bella while they clutched to Barty and Rudolphus. Everyone else had begun running, Apparating to different points of the enclosure and hexing one another in the pandemonium, desperate to cause casualties to the other side regardless of their impending doom. Suddenly, the Dark Lord Apparated away with his most loyal.

That night Lucius lay beside his wife, secure that he would always have his idol. His leader. A man he could guarantee needed him. Lucius would forever be strong at the right-hand side of the Dark Lord; he would always hold so much power in his world.

OOO

Daphne brushed her long, blonde hair as she sat at the vanity table, gazing at her reflection without really seeing it. In her mind, she could see the redhead in the dungeons, floors below her. The woman had not left her thoughts all night. Daphne had never met someone that made her question her world, that made her wonder if everything really was okay. She didn't think she could ever recall watching such a horrific act: draining the magic of a witch, a pureblood no less. A _Weasley_. She knew of them, of course. Who could have missed the troublemaking, quick-tempered redheads at Hogwarts? They were a family who had praised goodness, loyalty and strength of heart over appearances and society.

Ginevra was not in the same year, not older and certainly nothing special. The only time the girl had registered on her radar was when she'd begun dating Harry Potter. Oh, and Zabini had mentioned her looks once or twice in passing. But now it baffled Daphne how she'd never witnessed the pure _fire_the girl seemed to possess. Draco, too, had been impressed by her; Daphne could tell. He admired strength. That was why she tried so hard to remain strong in front of him, in front of everyone. Daphne had not cried in front of someone since she was nine.

Draco had seemed so attentive last night. So _there_ with her. She could count on one hand how many times she'd felt she held his attention and she could also probably count the minutes each instance had lasted. They were brief moments in time that flitted infrequently in her life and she cherished each one lovingly. She liked to caress the memories in the night when he had been absent for weeks or days at a time, and although she'd yet to kiss him or even touch him in a way that was less than chaste, she longed for him. Yearned for him.

She heard the bedroom door open and found herself blushing at being caught thinking such things about a man she wasn't formally engaged to yet. It was her sister who had entered. Astoria was as tall as Daphne, but thoroughly resembled their mother's side of the family with her dark brown hair and olive skin. Astoria starkly contrasted against her pale, fair-haired sister.

"Astoria?"

"Morning, Daph." Astoria yawned widely and curled up on her sister's bed, looking extremely reminiscent of a cat.

Astoria was two years younger than Daphne and had always looked up to her sister, looking to Daphne to act as a mother figure. She was wearing a set of casual but impeccably well-made robes.

"You'll crease your clothes - sit up." adominished Daphne.

The younger girl complied with her sister's words and continued to watch as Daphne beautified herself, applying a glamour to hide the bags she'd acquired beneath her eyes after a sleepless night.

"Now," Daphne stood. "Do I wear these?" She held up a set of burnt orange robes, which, you could tell, would be fairly busty. "Or these?" This time she switched the robes for a midnight blue robe that had a little scoop neck and were fashioned of Chinese silk.

"The blue," replied her sister, looking unconcerned. "Why is it so important? You normally wear what you like whether it causes a stir or not."

This was very true. Daphne had long ago given up on adolescent insecurities about her appearance and often wore daring, dramatic robes and dresses to shock, impress and enthral the people around her.

"I'm out with Draco today. I would rather not gain too much attention. I want some time alone with him." Daphne smiled softly to herself.

"_Draco_," sneered her sister. "He barely talks to you, Daph. Why do you waste your heart on him?"

"How dare you!" gasped Daphne, halfway through pulling off her dressing gown. "I will be married to this man eventually. And - and I love him, Astoria. It is better that I love and not loathe him, isn't it? If I am going to be told who to marry, I should at least make the best of it…and, anyway, I have always loved him. For years I watched him."

"Merlin. You shouldn't have to change who you are for him, either. Wear what you'd normally wear - you're so afraid of upstaging him aren't you? Afraid you'll dent that impermeable ego of his."

Daphne ignored her sister as she pulled the robe over her underwear-clad body and readjusted her hair once more, back to its former perfection.

Astoria sighed wistfully. "You look beautiful, Daphne."

The blonde witch straightened her back and looked at her younger sister's reflection in the mirror, staring directly into her eyes.

"Thank you, Astoria." Daphne's voice was cold and unfeeling. "Now go and eat breakfast."

Smoothing the imaginary wrinkles out of her robes, Astoria sniffed, held her head high and walked out of the Malfoy's guest room.

OOO

"Draco," Daphne greeted her betrothed, looking both elegant and composed.

"Morning, Daphne."

He chastely brushed his lips against her cheek and she smiled, warmly. Draco felt her smiling and took her hand in his. It wasn't her fault they were to be engaged. Besides he still had a year before they _tied the knot_. The least he could do was, like her, make the best of a less than satisfying arrangement. She was attractive, pleasant and well-behaved. Nice. Yes, nice was the best way to describe the eldest Greengrass daughter, and cute. Nice and cute. She would be an excellent wife.

"I thought we could walk through London. Perhaps stop at a patisserie?" Draco suggested.

She nodded, smiling. That sounded wonderful.

Photographers were out in force, taking pictures of the young couple everywhere they went. Snapping images of them shopping together: Daphne giggling as Draco modelled a large hat that was about as tall as it was wide; Draco snickering when Daphne fell out of a changing room decked in the most atrocious outfit he'd been able to find. It was nice, he decided, spending time with someone of his ilk. Of his standing. They could snobbishly laugh at the same things. For example, people that looked as though they'd been hit with a Confundus charm before pulling on their clothing for the day. _She looks as though she battled with a Boggart before falling out of her wardrobe! _Daphne had cattily remarked, and Draco had to agree.

They were both sitting in the window of a little Chocolatier, tasting the different confectionaries at the end of their date. Daphne was sipping a mocha and Draco a black coffee, as they suggested various chocolates for one another, trying to find their favourites. Daphne discovered vanilla caramels were her favourite and, although Draco tried to hide it, spiced Maya hearts had been his preference.

Silence had enveloped the couple for a moment. Then, suddenly, Daphne voiced what had been in her mind all last night and what had been niggling her throughout the day. "What will happen to Weasley?"

"Hm?" Draco had been broken out of his reverie, wondering if he'd been muttering his thoughts aloud, for he too had been focusing on the redhead who was currently residing in his family's dungeons. "Honestly? I don't know. I can't see Father letting her work in our house. And it wouldn't be proper for me to take her into my service, and, well, she wouldn't exactly be loyal in my troops."

They sighed in unison.

"So she is simply to rot in jail, is that what you're saying?" Daphne snapped, hating him momentarily.

"No, no." _At least_, he added silently, though not really knowing why he'd thought this at all, _I hope not._

OOO

"Sebastian?"

"Lucius, come in," answered the Minister.

The tall, long-haired man strode into the Minister's office and smirked as he handed Sebastian three death warrants. Hermione Granger, a worthless know-it-all Mudblood. Luna Lovegood, a laughable and naive fool. And Hannah Abbott, a half-blooded bitch whose stupid mother should have had better taste in men. The Minister read the papers carefully and Lucius examined his impeccable fingernails as he did so; the only sounds were coming from a lightly crackling fire.

Half an hour after entering, the eldest Malfoy left the office with a smug, self-satisfied grin plastered across his features. _Three down, one to go_. Ginevra Weasley would not hold Daphne Greengrass' attentions for long. She'd soon forget about the girl when the new season of robes was revealed and then, then he'd have the red-haired bint executed too.

**Ramble:**

Chapter two. Revised a little but still mainly the same as what was up here before.

Wonderfully beta'd by Kim of course.

Review, let me know your thoughts etc. :)

Tash.


	4. The Past is Another Land

**Ginevra**

_You know nothing about me and care even less  
How could you understand our emptiness  
You've plundered our wisdom, our knowledge, our wealth  
In bleeding us dry  
You long for our spirit  
But that you will never possess_

_The past is now another land_  
_Far beyond my reach_  
_Invaded by insidious_  
_Foreign bodies, foreign speech_

_Where timeless joys of childhood  
Lie broken on the beach_

_OOO_

The other girls had stopped their crying hours ago, but Ginny hadn't been able to let herself even start. She knew that if the sobbing began, she'd have trouble ever stemming the flow. The dungeons were medieval and dank. They smelt of damp and decay and loss of hope. Ginny had her back against the wall, her eyes closed, completely lost in her own thoughts. The girls' arms were no longer bound together by thick chains, but upon each of their left wrists was a thin, gold band; it was like a magnet for magic.

As soon as the bracelet made contact with a witch or wizards flesh it drew the magic out of the person and stored it away until the owner of said manacle released their prisoner. It was barbaric. To take away the pure essence of a magical being was akin to performing a sort of lobotomy. Ginny had never felt as afraid as she did now. It was like being stripped naked and thrust in front of a crowd hungry for blood.

"Ginny."

She knew it was Luna speaking, but it didn't sound remotely like the blonde. There was no whimsical quality to her voice and gone was the dreamy naivety that had used to lift Ginny's spirits even on the darkest of days. Ginny looked to her left, where she knew the blonde girl lay. Luna looked broken. Her long golden hair was matted with blood, sweat and grime, and her face was covered in little scratches. She'd fought so bravely to defend the other women in the resistance; they all had.

"Luna?"

"I'm sorry." The words were pushed out through a fresh wave of tears. Sobs appeared to be raking her entire body. "I'm so sorry. We should have made you escape with the others. They'll be-"

"Luna!" The voice was sharp and strong like the crack of a whip. It was Hermione. She was currently glaring at the blonde. "_That's enough._ It would not be wise to reveal too much."

Luna nodded and began to weep silently once more.

Ginny summoned what little strength she still had and crawled across the floor to be nearer to her friend. The gritty, jagged flint on the ground cut into her knees and palms, but it was as though her body was becoming so accustomed to pain that it no longer fully registered the feeling. Her hands that had once been so soft and untainted were now calloused and wise to the world. The past few months had both broken and hardened the young redhead.

She grasped Luna's hand in hers. The touch of human flesh was a comforting and beautiful thing. Luna, who had been bent over double, looked up from beneath her hair and returned the intense stare of her friend.

"_Never _be sorry for that, Luna." Ginny's grip on the blonde's hand tightened. " I feel honoured to have fought beside you. _All of you._"

OOO

_Two days previously..._

Ginny ran the brush throughout her coppery locks and watched the women around her breathe sighs of relief. It had been days since they'd come across such a large expanse of fresh water, and all appeared to be taking advantage of it. Ginny paddled her feet in the crystalline water. It felt good to be clean again. If she closed her eyes and held her face up to the sun she could almost imagine she was dangling her toes into the Black Lake at Hogwarts. She felt a presence beside her. Looking to her left she spotted a slim, brow-haired woman.

"Everything okay, Hermione?" The brunette witch was Ginny's second-in-command and closest friend.

"I'm just wondering why we haven't heard from the others yet."

Ginny could feel her jaw tense. Her father led the other band of renegades, and she didn't like to dwell on the fact that there was little she could do should they be attacked. He would be lost to her forever. However, Hermione was right (as usual), it was very strange to have gone so long without any word from the men, particularly when one of their largest plans was about to be put into action.

The resistance to the Ministry had decided it was time to leave the country. They would take a Portkey to the Peloponnese in Greece and regroup. Then, when they had regained optimum strength, they'd return home to England and take their home back. The resistance was suffering too many losses staying in the United Kingdom - Greengrass sent men out to find them now. Nowhere was it safe to linger longer than a night or two at the most; the constant threat of capture alongside the nomadic lifestyle was beginning to take its toll. Everyone was looking worn and tired. The lights in their eyes were starting to flicker and die.

"I...I don't know, Hermione." Ginny replied. "We can only look out for our group and hope the others are surviving too. We should move on in an hour or so. This is an obvious place for Greengrass's men look for us."

The brunette nodded and walked away, telling the women to start getting their things together. Ginny looked down at her feet. She was one of the youngest there, but leadership fell to her. She missed Harry and Ron. She longed to be back at the Burrow, eating her mother's cooking and clowning around with her siblings. She yearned for her dad to come home and gibber excitedly about _spark plugs _and _exhaust pipes._ That life seemed so hazy now. Warm beds and a safe night's sleep were mere shadows in her memories. But this was her fate; she was _to lead the innocents to salvation._ She'd had no idea that when Trelawney had gone into her trance that the prophecy would change her life forever. Ginny was not just a fierce member of the Order anymore; she was a saviour, a leader.

Ginny bent and splashed water on her face, observing her reflection amongst the ripples. She almost looked the same as she had before the war: brown eyes, pale skin, and the trademark Weasley freckles and red-hair. However, her eyes no longer sparkled as they previously had, and while her skin had once been creamy and smooth, now she looked peaky and grey. She stood and looked around her. Everyone looked much as they once had, only more jaded. She was pondering this when a faint pop in the distance caused her to freeze. It had been the telltale sign of a witch or wizard Apparating or Disapparating in their vicinity. The pocket Sneakoscope that had once belonged to Harry, which she wore on a long chain around her neck, began to spin and faintly squeal.

"_Fuck!"_

Taking in a deep, steadying breath, she picked up her wand and blasted a silvery cloud around the women. They froze instantly. Just after the War had ended, a taboo was placed upon all shielding charms and impenetrable hexes. Since the renegades had been on the run they'd had to rely on other means to remain undetected. This was a spell Ginny, Hermione and Hannah Abbott had developed themselves; it allowed those it was cloaking five minutes invisibility and soundproofing but it sapped the caster of so much energy that it was hard to keep it strong the whole time.

Hermione, Luna and Hannah rushed to their leader's side, while the other women turned to face the four. Panic was written on all of their faces. Ginny delved into her tattered robes and pulled out a mini Foe Glass.

"_Shit._ It's Malfoy."

Luna turned ashen, and Hermione appeared to have lost her ability to vocalise her fear.

"How many?" Asked Hannah, who was looking out into the distance, as if she'd be able to see the approaching ambush.

"About twenty."

"_Bollocks._"

Aware of the lack of time, Ginny composed herself and addressed the tribe of women before her. "Please remain calm. It's Draco Malfoy and he's with about twenty others. _Do not panic._"

From her bag Luna pulled out a large, greying bed sheet.

"This is a portkey," Ginny continued. "It will take you to a safe place. Then you must contact _Arthur Weasley. _He will take you to Greece; he will keep you , as soon as you get there, destroy this Portkey. It's obviously unauthorised and I do not want them to be able to trace it. When the cloud lifts, it will begin to work."

"Ginny, no." Penelope Clearwater's light blue eyes filled with tears. "Come with us?"

The redhead bit her lip. "No. It won't work instantly and I need to distract them; I need to ensure you get out of here. _I won't run from them_."

She was sick of hiding. Ginny felt no shame about her choices in the War, or those she called her friends and she was not going to run any longer.

"_I am_ staying with you, Ginevra." Hermione's voice was cold and determined, and the redhead didn't argue. It'd be nice to have someone who cared if she were struck down.

Luna had begun organising the piece of material so that everyone would be able to hold on to it.

Ginny looked at the sea of terrified faces before her. "We have about forty seconds before this cloud disperses. Pick up your bags and make sure you have a tight hold on the sheet."

The women reluctantly followed Ginny's orders. None wanted to abandon their leader.

"Do as I say," Ginny commanded. "Once the mist is completely dispersed it'll begin to take you away. We'll shield you the best we can."

"Ginny, hurry!" urged Hannah. She could see the redhead growing weaker under the strain of the camouflaging hex.

Ginny's voice felt thick with emotion and fear, but she managed to bite out her last sentiments to her followers: "I'm so sorry. _Good luck._"

The silvery haze around them began to lift.

"Luna, Hannah – grab the sheet!" gasped Ginny, her eyes wide with fear.

Both girls looked at each other and then to their crimson-haired leader. In that moment no further words were spoken; they would not be leaving her. Knowing it would be fruitless to try and convince them to escape, Ginny began to sign that she, Hermione, Hannah and Luna should spread out to different places around the gaggle of women.

The smokescreen had almost cleared completely. They were surrounded by tall, broad figures swathed in black. Malfoy looked fierce and arrogant, the rest filled were filled with anger and hatred. Ginny bent onto her haunches, becoming almost cat-like as she looked up from beneath her hair into the eyes of Marcus Flint, Malfoy's second-in-command. Her wand hand was poised and in her other she held a small dagger. Sometimes magic wasn't enough; she knew that.

Flint's dark eyes were glaring at her as he barked, "Capture, not kill, boys. Sebastian's orders."

Ginny felt more than heard the fear of the women behind her, but as the screen weakened, the Portkey started to work. The mist cleared completely and in that second a melee of sounds could be heard: the whir of the Portkey taking off, the shouts of the men as they realised what was happening, and the screams as Ginny, Hermione, Luna and Hannah leapt into battle. They were outnumbered, and it felt hopeless but the fire within the four women and their tenacity to survive and bring their home back to safety was driving them. Anger built up from the months of anguish and suffering was finally releasing itself. The women were taking no prisoners.

Ginny never felt pride in killing or mortally injuring another but, she knew causalities were to be expected. She was also under no illusions; if Greengrass hadn't enforced the fact that everyone needed a trial before a sentence, all four of them would have been slaughtered already.

Hermione was duelling Malfoy. She looked sweaty and determined. He was baiting her with childish insults.

"It's not Hogwarts anymore, Malfoy. You need to _grow the fuck up."_

He just laughed and a man knocked out the brunette from behind. _One down._

All three were the strongest women she knew and all three fell. At last, it was only Ginny and Flint. She'd injured several others around her and he'd forbidden anyone else to interfere; it had become a matter of pride now. Her body appeared to be emitting a strange sort of shield, quite of its own accord, and would occasionally zap someone if they got too close to her.

Ginny could feel her resources beginning to dilapidate. She'd used up so much magic and raw energy. The shelter she'd provided for the women had been exhausting, and once the fight had begun she seemed to run on pure adrenaline, but that couldn't last. She was burning out. She stumbled and Flint used this to his advantage. A quickly placed _Petrificus Totalus_ had her falling to the ground, her eyes wide open and her facilities in full working order except for the fact she could no longer move. She heard the crowd of men jeering and celebrating her defeat.

She could only watch as they picked her and her companion's bodies off the ground and began to Disapparate. _Bastards._

OOO

Ginny sighed and looked around the cells.

"I should have made you leave."

"Don't be ridiculous, Ginny."

Hermione was almost glaring at her from her cell. The brown-haired witch was filthy; the injuries she'd acquired while fending off Malfoy were scabbing over and made her look as though she'd been sparring with a particularly ferocious tiger.

"We knew what we signed up for when we ran with you. I could have escaped with my parents, and I could have left Harry to fight by himself many years ago. We all could have left the Order at any time. But _we didn't._ Just because you were younger than us, it didn't stop us wanting to fight with you; I hope you realised that long ago. You are a wonderful leader."

"She's right, Gin." Hannah's voice was soft but with a lilt of gruffness to it; they were all so thirsty. "I don't regret any of my choices. Especially not staying with you."

The redhead felt pride bloom in her chest.

"I hope the others are okay." Luna had voiced the worry that Ginny had been nursing since they'd been bought here.

"Oh, Merlin, me too." muttered Ginny.

OOO

Ginny felt her eyes creak open. Her body ached all over. Exhausted, she'd finally managed to sleep. What had woken her was the presence of one of the guards from the previous night, accompanied by Lucius Malfoy. Lucius looked pristine and crisp and his eyes were full of malice and a little gleam of insanity. He was power hungry; Ginny could feel it coming off of him in waves.

"Good morning, ladies."

His words were clipped, sharp, and spoken in a posh British accent with a slightly nasal drawl.

"_Fuck you_, Malfoy."

"Ah, Weasley. How is your dear mother?"

Ginny bit her lip so hard that she could taste the salty tang of blood on her tongue. She would not rise to his jibes.

"Silence; the best decision you've made in a while, Ginevra. Now, I've been speaking to my _good friend,_ Minister Greengrass, and he agrees with me that you are not worthy of trials. All four of you have been on the Undesirables list for the past couple of years; we know of your treason and after the amount of our guards you killed when we tried to _peacefully_ bring you in...well, it just proves your true natures."

He cleared his throat and pulled out an official looking sheaf of parchment. None of the women had been surprised at Lucius' words.

_Of course they wouldn't be given a fair trial._

All four had worked for the resistance before Harry had died. They had never deluded themselves they'd leave those dungeons alive, and they certainly never expected anyone to come and save them. A rescue mission was suicide.

"On the sixteenth of the month – _that's today, incidentally –_ at 11.00 A.M., the execution of the traitors Hermione Jane Granger, Luna Lovegood and Hannah Abbott shall take place. Death by Choking Potion." The blond smirked. "I hope you've settled your affairs, ladies."

"_What the fuck!_"

"Ah, Ginevra. Do not fret. You will not hold the attentions of Daphne or my son; you'll soon join your little friends."

Laughing, he span on his heel and exited the dungeon, leaving an impenetrable silence behind him.

The ramifications of Lucius Malfoy's words had winded the redhead. "_Shit._ I- I don't understand."

Ginny looked to the three women around her, begging for forgiveness. Shame was coursing through her veins. But Luna was smiling through her tears.

"Don't you see, Ginny?" Luna asked. "You aren't finished yet. The prophecy said you'd protect and save many...there's more for you to do here."

"Luna's right, Ginny. Don't give up." chimed in Hannah.

The redhead felt like retching. All three seemed so calm and accepting of the fate that was to befall them. They were truly like no other people she'd ever met.

Heavy footsteps were approaching. Five masked wizards stood before them, clothed entirely in black; they looked like fallen angels of death. Ginny stood, as did Hannah, Luna and Hermione. They were not about to be scooped off the floor to be taken to their demise. They'd go with pride and walk tall. They would die fighting the wrong in the world; they would die for those they loved.

Ginny began to shake as she watched the three being manacled up and connected to each other via thick silver chains. Their hair was hacked off and thrown to the ground, but none of them cried. Their tears had dried long ago; they felt no fear. They did not mourn their own passing. Each met the guards with a direct stare, all determined to show no cowardice.

Ginny, however, who'd remained strong for so long began to falter. She felt her knees buckle and had to grasp onto the iron bars to keep her steady. The three women turned to face the redhead. Tears were freely flowing from her eyes and her whole body was sweating and juddering with anxiety and grief.

"I'm so...so..." Ginny's words could not come. "I love you. I'm sorry. I love you, I love you..."

Hermione's voice, however, was still so resilient."Stay strong, Ginevra. Please, for us, you have to continue to fight."

"Thank you, for being my friend, Ginny."

Luna's words broke Ginny's resolve entirely.

As the three left they began to call out messages of hope but Ginny could not respond. Sobs were distorting her entire body. She'd never felt pain akin to this. She'd lost family in the war but they'd been struck down fighting. Hermione, Luna and Hannah were simply being led to their death, and they were going with such honour. She would mourn them and deeply. Even if no one else felt compassion for three fallen women, she would grieve their passing and remember their life.

Blackness took over Ginny's vision and she began to fall to the ground. Her soul couldn't take the pain any longer.

OOO

Luna, Hermione and Hannah had been taken to the vast courtroom in the bowels of the Ministry. They were seated in three chairs and chained in place. The metal collar around their necks forced them to look up at the main panel above them. There sat Lucius Malfoy, Sebastian Greengrass, and various other faceless purebloods. A little to the left sat Astoria and Daphne Greengrass, both who looked impeccably well presented, Hermione couldn't help but snort at their crassness. Who gets dressed up to preen in front of their old classmates?

None of the prisoners listened to the words spoken by Sebastian and the council. What was the point? They knew their fate. However, when a latecomer burst through the door they all began to pay attention. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Minister, I'm afraid they have just had an accident with the Choking Potion," Draco announced. "The Ministry's supply is now lying all over the floor in the corridor above." His lies came smoothly, but Hermione knew his words weren't the truth – how often had she seen that glint in his eyes as he'd lied at Hogwarts?

"Well," boomed Lucius, "they can brew more, can't they."

"_No._"

It was the Minister who spoke this time.

"I do not believe it fair to make these women wait longer," the Minister continued. "I am not a man who likes to induce fear, Lucius. I'm not going to torture these women. The Choking Potion is a horrible way to meet one's death, and I do not want them waiting for hours only to suffer more. That's not right."

Hannah thought the Minister had a twisted sort of compassion, but at least he felt some.

"Hermione Granger, Hannah Abbot and Luna Lovegood, you shall be executed by means of the killing curse." Sebastian turned to face one of his guard. "Send for three executioners."

He looked back down at the three women. "Last words?"

"You smug bastards."

It was Hermione, naturally.

"You think yourselves so superior, but fear is the only power you have and guess what? We are not afraid of you." She spat at the floor. "Go to hell."

Daphne watched as three men approached the witches with their wands outstretched. In unison, the executioners bellowed "_Avada kedava"_

Green light filled the room and then there was silence.

OOO

Outside the court room, Draco Malfoy turned to his servant, Cailen. "Go fetch Ginevra Weasley, prepare her for entering into service at the Greengrass' household."

**Ramble;**

So, this is chapter 3. It's never before seen the light of day of FFN or FIA or anywhere. It' s the first chapter that has been written _now _(as opposed to just being a bit reworked like one and two) so I'd love love LOVE some feedback on it, please.

Kim, wonderful person that she is, beta'd this for me – so, thank you, Kim!

Tash.


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